


Apple Crumble

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 077: Demand<br/>Warnings: Non-Con, BDSM, D/s, angst, first person POV<br/>Summary: I don't think he knew how demanding he has become. This is the third night this week. One night too many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apple Crumble

“Harry.”  
  
I pant the word because I haven't got enough breath left to say it any louder. I can't move. I don't know where he learnt these spells but they're hurting me, stringing my body up so that he has access to every single inch of it.  
  
“What?” he smiles at me, whilst one of his hands rubs my cock, as if this is normal, as if it's fine to pounce on your best mate and tie him up as soon as he walks through the door from work.  
  
My body stinks. It was a long day and I didn't shower after my run. I can smell my own stench from my armpits and it's disgusting, mingling with new sweat and the smell of sex because I'm only human and Harry's sucked my cock already and I came too quickly.  
  
“Enough,” I say finally, trying to clear my throat. “Let me go.”  
“And If I refuse?” he taunts, closing his fingers in a tight fist around my shaft.  
  
My spine arches as I lean forward into his touch.   
  
“You don't want to be let go. You want this.”  
“I want to lie down,” I moan, dropping my head forward so that it hangs between my up-stretched arms. “Please.”  
“Sorry, didn't catch that,” Harry says, dropping my cock and moving to pick something up.  
“No,” I say stiffly, looking at the flogger in his hand. “No, Harry. I've had enough!”  
  
I cry out at the first crack of the leather against my arse. It stings like fire; when it falls again it's worse, and he hits me over and over again until I'm just screaming and jerking, knowing nothing else other than the pain and his control over me.  
  
Suddenly the pain cuts out and he's in front of me. He's blurry. I'm crying.  
  
“Shh.” Harry reaches up to wipe away a tear with his thumb. I didn't know it was there.  
  
I look at him through watery eyes and silently plead.  
  
“You know what you have to say...”  
“I just wanted to have dinner and go to bed!” I burst out, slightly hysterical.  
  
Harry stares at me, eyes assessing my face.  
  
“Bowtruckle,” I mumble finally. I can't look at him.  
  
Before I know it, I'm on the floor. My bum and hips ache from the blows he laid there and my cock pokes me in the belly.  
  
I can't look up at him, because this is something else. This is the first time I've ever had to use my safe word. This is the first time he has ever pushed me too far, and it wasn't with dangerous kinks, it wasn't through too much pain.  
  
“Ron.” A cool hand smooths over my brow and pushes my hair back; I didn't know I was so hot.  
  
I don't think he knew how demanding he has become. This is the third night this week. One night too many.  
  
“Ron, I'm sorry.”  
  
I know I have to grow a pair and look at him, before I break what we've worked so hard to build. It just feels like he's betrayed me, somehow, by forcing me to say that word, a word I never planned to use. Swallowing, I push myself up with one hand and make myself look at him. He looks terrible, pale. Frightened.  
  
“For once,” I start, and have to cough to make my voice work again. “For once, Harry, can we just fuck without this shit? Without the restraints and the whips and the power play?”  
“I thought you liked it,” Harry says weakly.  
“I do. But if you eat apple crumble every night for dessert you're gonna get tired of it,” I blurt, blinking the tears out of my eyes. “Do you get what I'm saying?”  
“I get it,” Harry says solemnly, sitting back on his heels, shoulders slumped.  
  
We sit and stare at one another. My body cools down until the point where I start to shiver. My arse really hurts. He reads my mind.  
  
“I'll heal those,” he says, reaching for his wand. “I'm sorry I... I'm sorry I pushed you, Ron.”  
  
I shake my head and lean forward, seeking out a kiss. When I find his lips I pause and murmur against them.  
  
“Love you, Harry.”  
“You shouldn't,” he mutters back, and then kisses me, too tentatively for the hard stripes lashed into my skin not minutes ago by the same person.  
  
I lift my aching arm to cup the base of his skull with my fingers; I hold him in place as we kiss. I open my eyes to find him staring at me, apology etched deep in the green.


	2. Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 073: Light  
> Warnings: Angst, first person POV  
> Summary: Ron has to make a decision, no matter how hard it is.

This was his idea, the holiday. He said we needed time away to try and breathe away from everyone else.  
  
Whatever, Harry. I would have been happy at home drinking beer and sleeping all week long.  
  
That apparently isn't what our relationship needs. Sleep. Alcohol. Lazy mornings in bed. I think that'd be pretty useful, don't you?  
  
So now I'm here being blinded by the light and cooked alive by the sun, even though I'm in the shade. And Harry is sitting outside the shade, sunglasses on, looking like a fucking God, and I look like the ugly deformed cousin hidden from sight.  
  
I didn't want to come to the beach. I wanted to stay in bed and go for lunch later when the heat had cooled off. But no. Here I am, for him.  
  
You'd think he was the one who got strung up and abused.  
  
I could hate him, but I don't have the energy. I could go home, but I don't have the energy to do that either. So I sit in silence, and look out at the sea and think about what to do.   
  
What to do. Should be a pretty easy decision, right? It wasn't the first time it had happened. It wasn't the last either. We went fine for two weeks, and then he had a bad day at work and as soon as I walked through the door, it happened again.  
  
Except that time, I didn't stop him.  
  


~*~

  
  
“You're not eating very much.”  
  
I shrug and sip my liquid dinner, which is giving me the courage to formulate the words on my tongue. My mother always told me never to rely on drink. Sorry Mum. I think even you'll understand this.  
  
“Harry.”  
“If you don't like it we can order another meal?” Harry moves his stare from the plate to me.  
“It's not the food.” I clear my throat and put down my wine glass.  
“Then what is it?”   
  
I push back my chair slightly and brace my feet on the floor. Clearing it didn't work; there's a lump there and if I cry here I'm going to look like a right tosser.  
  
“I don't think that I can do this any more.”   
“Do what? Christ, if it's an issue, just push the plate away. No need to make a drama.”  
  
He rolls his eyes at me and resumes shovelling pasta into his mouth.  
  
“I don't think I want to be with you any more,” I say, more specifically.  
  
Half-chewed lumps of pasta and carbonara sauce fly through the air. Maybe I should have waited until he was finished. Now I've ruined his dinner. Harry gulps down some water before he looks at me, dumbfounded.  
  
 _“What?”_  
  
It's a gasp. Not really a word. A gasp. He sounds horrified. I don't bother to repeat it. He heard me clear enough.  
  
“Ron, why?”  
“Do you really have to ask that?”  
  
I let my eyes follow a waiter past the table and then finally look at him. He's red in the face from choking but his eyes look too damp.  
  
“Ron.” He's down to a whisper now. “Ron, please don't do this, please. Please.”  
“Harry, do you think this is easy?”   
“Please don't leave me.”  
“Please don't beg me,” I counter.  
  
His mouth opens but no words come out. The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me. I get to my feet.  
  
“I'm going home. I'll get my stuff from the villa first.”  
“Ron-”  
  


~*~

  
  
“Are you telling me there isn't another portkey out of here until tomorrow morning?” I ask, stomach sinking.  
  
The wizard nods apologetically and then shuffles off out of sight of the ticket window.   
  
“Fuck,” I mutter, and aim a kick at my bag on the floor. I really wanted to get out of here tonight. Now I have nowhere to stay and very little money on me. “Such a prick.”  
  
I turn around, looking for a seat.  
  
“Oh.”  
“Ron.”  
“Harry.”  
  
The overwhelming urge to laugh comes over me, but when Harry throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck and holding on tight. He's gasping against my ear, like if he lets go of me his life will be over.  
  
“Don't go. Don't. Please don't go.”  
“I can't go anywhere for tonight,” I whisper. “No portkeys.”  
“Get your suitcase and please come back with me. Even if it's just tonight. I want to... I want to talk about this.”  
“Talk?” I breathe.  
“Please?”  
  
He says the word into my lips. How am I supposed to resist?


	3. No Good For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 090: Home  
> Warnings: Angst, first person POV  
> Summary: Justifying it, even in his mind, doesn't work...
> 
> Switch to Harry's perspective.

This can't happen. He can't leave me. I love him so much.  
  
I watch as Ron sits on the bed, his face in his hands. I know he's crying under there but he won't let me see -he only ever lets me see when I've broken him, when I've pushed him too far and beyond what I should.  
  
We stayed in each other's arms at the Portkey Terminal for what felt like forever. He pulled away, though, and he looked at me with hurt in his eyes and that broke _me_.  
  
Fuck, I know this is wrong. I know that it's my fault. I keep asking for things that I shouldn't and because he loves me, Ron gives me what I want. God, when he did say no, it was like a slap in the face. When he cried and told me that sometimes he just wanted normal sex, I didn't know what to do. I felt like throwing myself off a bridge because I'd been selfish, too carried away in my own wants and needs to really pay attention to Ron -my Ron, who I don't think I could actually live without. And then I went and took what I wanted regardless of his feelings.  
  
We left early. We're home now and he's sitting on our bed, face in his hands, crying. Over me. God, I'm a bastard. I'm worse than that, I'm a cunt. I've been the first in the past, on reading about an abusive relationship -and trust me, working where we work, we've seen them- to rant about how disgusting it is, to question why one human being could do it to another.  
  
And here I am, as bad as the best of them.  
  
I'm sitting in front of the closed bedroom door, hoping that it will stop him from walking out, though I know that's stupid because he has a wand and could apparate, or blast me out of the way and leave anyway. But he's just sitting there, crying into his hands. There's nothing I can do to help him, not when he gets like this.  
  
I know how it must seem to him. He's the victim. He is. But I'm biting on my tongue to stop myself from remind him of what I've put up with in the past. The constant moods after the war, when he was down and depressed and unable to string a sentence together. I was there. When he lost all interest in sex for whatever reason, for two whole years. I was there and I helped him out of whatever was hurting him enough to stop him from wanting me. I was there for that and I took what felt like a massive insult on the chin and stayed. I was there when... fuck.  
  
This is stupid. Trying to justify it. I've been there for Ron but there's no doubt he has been there for me through far worse. He nearly died for me. Several times -and not just in the war; afterwards, working together as Aurors. No curse has ever hit me because Ron is always there. Sometimes he just deflects them. Sometimes, he takes them for me.  
  
For every time he's been in a hospital bed for me, I have always been beside it.  
  
I don't know what to do. If this ends, I'll end, I think. I wouldn't know how to function without Ron. I don't know how that happened. I came from having nobody and throughout the years, Ron has become my somebody, and now I couldn't be without him. Hermione, too, but the bond never deepened with her like it did with Ron. Ron became my only attraction -my only obsession. I wanted to do everything with him and to him. I wanted to lick that spot under his ear which makes him moan. I wanted to massage his stinking feet because it soothes him first, and then it makes him hard. I even like the smell of the stench of his feet.  
  
“Harry.”  
  
I look up at him. His face is red and tear stained. He looks beautiful.  
  
“I can't leave you,” he whispers, voice a croak. “I should. I know I should. I shouldn't still trust you.”  
“But you do?” I hope aloud.  
  
Ron settles his gaze on me and swallows.  
  
“I think I do, yeah.”  
“You shouldn't,” I say miserably, my guilt talking for me. “I'm... I'm no good for you, Ron.”  
“I know that.”  
  
Oh, Merlin, that hurts.  
  
“But the thing is... since I was eighteen... I've loved nobody else. And ten years... that's a long time, Harry.”  
“So...”  
  
“I don't know,” Ron says bleakly. “Come here.”  
  
I go. I'll always go. God, I love him.

 

-fin-


End file.
